Hell's Circus
by Anarchist's Rose
Summary: Circus's are supposed to be fun. People come to see the animals, watch the miraculous acts in amazement, laugh at those of us who are disfigured. They don't know the hell we went through to get here. Living life as a freak is not what we wanted. We're people too. I promise, just look at us. Historic AU. Canon couples. All characters present. Are you scared of the circus?
1. Elmer, the Ringmaster and the Beast

Prologue: Elmer, the Ringmaster and the Beast

 _Step right up! Thank you all for taking the time to read my next little horror. I've been wanting to visit the circus for a long time. The character the prologue includes is only for the prologue. Don't worry. The rest of the story is just our main cast of characters. Our little freak show. I do hope you'll enjoy the circus._

* * *

Many circuses had come by our town but none were as unique as the one that was advertised to come to our town next. That's what intrigued us. The other boys as I watched from the sidelines as dozens of roustabouts put up giant canvas tents and the animal caretakers took out the different animals, lions, elephants, camels. We watched in excitement, the boys and I, sitting lazily on the grassy hill watching the men below us work hard. We were watching carefully because of the freaks that were advertised. They say there is a man who hangs from a hook through his jaw, and a fortune teller with no eyes. There's the most beautiful woman in the world, but she has the legs of a goat. There's a clown with two heads. Another woman, a contortionist, is rumored to be able to bend like she has no bones, and the magician and his assistant can remove their heads. It's bloody amazing, from what I've heard. I'm most excited to see the beast man, though: a human with the mind of an animal. "Do you think the rumors are true, lads? The ones about the freaks?"

"What the blazes are you goin' on about, Elmer? All these circuses tell a whole lotta horse-shit. Gotta get more business. That's what me mum says. They'll say anything to draw in a crowd." Of course Walter would doubt everything. He thinks he's the big boss of us boys 'cause he's a year older. He says he'll be a grown up next year 'cause he'll be thirteen.

"I don't know, Walter. It could be true. Remember the Lobster Man at the last freak show? You said he wouldn't exist, but he did." I can count on Thomas to take my side on things. He likes seeing Walter proved wrong as much as I do. He just tends to be a bit smarter about it. He goes to some fancy school in the city during the school months, only coming home for summer and winter holidays.

"Whatever. There was that same circus that claimed to have a bearded lady and it was just a man in a dress."

"I dunno. I thought he looked convincing." I look down at the people working below, drowning out Walter and Thomas's bickering. Was there really such thing as a goat woman, or a man that could take off his head? The roustabouts would probably know. Maybe I can overhear them. They are part of the circus after all. It would be great to be a part of the circus.

"I'm going down there."

Walter and Thomas both looked at me like I had gone mental. "Why don't you just wait until tomorrow like the rest of us? Remember last time?" Walter didn't need to remind me. We went down to try to get a better look and the roustabouts forced us into helping. We were stuck shoveling shit until nighttime. I got in trouble with me mum, I did. I wasn't back before supper. I know Walter and Thomas both hated it, but I didn't mind so much. It was fun getting to hear all the stories the men had. Some of the blokes had just snuck onto the train and found themselves with a job the next day. Other had been working there their whole lives. They told stories about people who broke the rules were thrown off the train, and how they'd watch their brains splatter against rocks as they hit the ground. I wonder if these guys had any stories.

"Don't worry about me. I'll be back before dinner." I hop up from my spot and run down the hill, laughing as thoughts of elephants and tigers filled my mind. I was determined to find one of the freaks in this circus. They were so heavily advertised that they had to be true. Someone ought to be talking about them. I snuck along the train cars hiding in the back, careful to avoid being seen. I didn't want to help carry the heavy crates or pitch the giant tent. That was hard enough the first time. I can hear stories from here.

Or I could explore. That sounds like fun. Maybe I can see the performers for myself.

The train seemed to go on forever. I couldn't see the front of the train, though I knew there had to be one. Do all the train cars smell like manure? I suppose it makes sense with all the animals on board. I wonder if the performers have to deal with the smell? Getting towards the front of the train the smell went away, so I assumed not. I watched carefully, peeking through the cracks between the train cars. The people over here were dressed much better. A brunette lady sat at a table sipping tea, sitting in a deep purple dress. Next to her a raven haired woman laughed, dark green dress contrasting her features nicely. They must be performers. I continue to watch, studying their behaviors carefully. There were loads of performers around, not just the two women. They all talked and laughed together, sipping tea and eating biscuits, dressed too nicely to be in our town. There was a trend, though. They all avoided the second, third and fourth cars to the front, giving them a wide berth anytime they passed by. Those were the cars I wanted to see. I snuck behind, in the shadow of the train, avoiding detection until I reached the fourth car, creeping in.

I got in and there was no one to be found. The interior of the car looked rather plain as well, sporting nothing but two pairs of twin sized bunk beds, and a full size bed. It was disappointing, frankly. The comforters were pale pink in color and the room smelled vaguely of rotting flowers. I doubt this is where the exquisite ladies spend their time. Against the walls were three wardrobes, a pile of books and diaries on top of one, a vase of long expired flowers and perfumes -probably the source of the smell- on another. The third one held an old picture of a family I didn't bother studying too closely. I let out a sigh and head out the door, trying to hop into the second car. "What do you think you're doing?"

I've been caught. The voice comes from behind me and sounds stern, but also strange. His accent comes from somewhere else. America, perhaps? I turn around and face him. He's a handsome man, brown hair and eyes, and nice features. He's got a bit of stubble on his chin. He's sharply dressed and I can tell he's one of the performers. What's strange about him though is the fact he's wearing gloves in the middle of July, and a couple of the fingers seem to be missing on the left hand. I stop staring at the gloves and turn my attention back to his face. He looks vaguely familiar. It dawns on me his portrait is one of the ones on the poster. "S-sorry sir. I just was looking for some of the performers. One of me friends didn't think they'd actually exist, so I thought I'd look for proof."

The man looks me over, up and down, before giving me a smile. "Well, why didn't you say so?" He crouches down so he's eye level with me. This man is fascinating. He doesn't look like he'd be part of the circus. "What's your name?"

"Elmer," I say without hesitation.

"Nice to meet you, Elmer. My name is Mike. I'm the ringmaster at this circus." He gets back up and crosses his arms, a sad look crosses his face, before he looks me over once again. "We actually have a bit of a problem. Do you think you could help me out?" I nod furiously. He's asking me to be a part of the circus! I can't possibly say no. "Great. Why don't you follow me?" I do as he says, following his every footstep. He leads me through the second cart, which looks the same as the previous one, except the comforters are a navy blue, there is no full size bed, and the smell is more like sweat than rotting flowers. There is a duo of people sitting on one of the beds, smiling at one another, a blonde man and a red headed woman. They turn their attention to me as I walk past. Their expressions are ones of sadness. We leave the car and go into the first one, where a blonde contortionist casually relaxes with her head casually between her legs, a book open. This much be the boneless woman I heard about! When she sees me she stands up and leaves the car, leaving her book abandoned. It looks like she's avoiding me.

This car smells worse than the first two, like the slaughter house. What was she doing in here, I wonder? Surely there much better places to relax. Mike leads me to a chair and motions for me to sit down. For the first time since leaving Walter and Thomas, I start to feel uneasy. "Take a seat." I do as he says. There's a dull growling coming from the other side of the cart.

"What's that sound?"

Mike puts a blindfold over me. "Oh, that's Josh. He's probably preparing for his act. You're going to help him."

My heartbeat begins to quicken. What is Josh's act? Why do I suddenly feel so uneasy? Why did Mike blindfold me? I am only able to think about these things for a split moment before I feel something cut through my neck. My head rolls to the floor and everything vanishes.

OoOoO

Killing doesn't bother me anymore. It's just another task I have to accomplish. Maybe I would be evil if I found pleasure in killing, but I don't. I just feel numb. I try not to take people that will be missed, or are of significance. His friends and parents will probably think he joined the circus. They'll never find his body.

I have to do this. I have to do this to keep Josh alive. Everyone needs to be safe. I've sacrificed so much for them. I only care about their safety. I sigh and pick up the boy's head, throwing it into a giant bucket, one that is crusted with years worth of blood. I hack off each of his limbs, slicing them quickly at the joints with decades of practice. He didn't suffer. I made sure of that. I'm not evil. I place all the body parts into the bucket and walk to the end of the car. There's a large cage with a single bed in it. Inside a man is huddled in the corner. "Hey, bud. I brought you some dinner. I know it's been a couple weeks since you've had a good meal."

He runs towards me, looking at me with crazed eyes. He looks almost normal person, if it weren't for those eyes. Those eyes and his teeth. That's why they call him a beast man. I know better. He's not a beast. He's a broken man. We're all broken. Us broken people have to stick together, like we always have.

The car opens and I know it's one of us. Everyone else avoids this place. They know those who come here never return. "Is it over?" It's Sam.

I don't say anything.

"He was just a little kid, Mike!"

I let out a breath. "I know."

"Why didn't you let him go?"

Nothing.

"Why did you lead him here?"

I can't answer.

"What happened to the Mike we used to know?"

The only sound now is coming from Josh chewing on one of the kid's arm. At least one of us is happy. I had to do it. I had to.

"You need to talk to us, Mike. I know we've all been through hell, but we can all get through this, together. We've made a life for ourselves now. We can finally be happy." She lets out a sigh and turns away from me. My silence is enough for her. She doesn't know how cruel her words are. "We're all here for you, Mike. Jess, Ash, Em, all of us." She grabs her book and leaves the car, probably going to find Hannah and Beth.

"We've made a life for ourselves, huh?" I sit next to Josh. "You and I have at least." I sit next to his cage, leaning against the bars. "It's going to just be you and me, you know. Everyone else will have to leave us." I sigh. "They've haven't been alive for a long time."

* * *

 _You're leaving already? Well did you have fun? You'll be sure to come back, won't you? You've just begun to see what we have to offer here at our little circus. Whatever you decide we'll be here. Waiting. Just don't keep us waiting too long._


	2. The Man with the Red Eyes

Act One Scene One: The Man with the Red Eyes

 _Ah, did the circus keep you waiting! We simply had to change the set for this first scene, you see. I do hope you weren't wanting for too long._

* * *

We don't remember out parents. Hell, I don't even know if we're actually brother and sister, but that's the role we've taken on, her and me. We've been like this our whole lives, sitting on the side of the streets, watching horse drawn carriages pass us by, and watching the high class folk look at us like we're less than fleas.

We steal to live. Bread and oranges in the winter, soy beans and cherries in the summer, apples and cranberries in the fall, strawberries and corn in the spring... and anything else we can get our hands on. It's the two of us against the world.

"Ash, come on. You've got to eat," I told her. I held out a piece of bread to her, fretting about where we would find shelter for the upcoming snowstorm.

"Mike, look!" She's staring at the window of a shop. There's an ornately dressed doll, porcelain, maybe. She has pale skin, green eyes and bright red hair. She's wearing a dress that looks like it could be made of silk, light blue and white. I can see why Ashley has taken a liking to her. "Someday I'm going to dress up like this doll. Then we can go to a ball and dance and none of the people would laugh or sneer at us!"

I smile at her and pat her on the head. "Sounds like a good time, Ash." I don't want to tear her away from the shop window but the first snowflakes are already starting to fall. "Come on, we need to go." She's getting sick. I know she is. She coughs in her sleep. I pretend I don't notice when she tries to stop the coughing during the day. I've just been giving her extra bread and water, giving her parts of my share.

She lets out a small cough and turns away from the building, reluctantly drawing her gaze away from the shopkeeper's window. I wonder if I could get something like that for Ashley. Christmas is coming up, though anytime Ash or I try to go into a store we're run out like dogs. I want to do something nice for her. I spare a small look at her as we walk away from the shop and into the alley. She's looking at the store wistfully, but more than that, she's pale. Even though it's cold outside her hands are hot, like an open flame. There's a bit of sweat on her forehead. She's shaking. We reach what looks like suitable shelter, under an awning in a dark alley, and she lets out another cough. It shakes her small body. I wrap my arms around her. "It's okay, Ash. We'll get out of here. We'll go dance."

"Hey, Mike?" Her voice is quiet and scratchy, weak. "We'll always be together, won't we?" I can see the fear in her eyes. She knows she's sick, and I think she knows she is a long way off from getting better, as much as it pains me to think.

My arms tighten around her little body and I kiss the top of her head. "I promise. I promise we will." She lifts up her head to look at me, a small smile spreading across her face, relief flooding her eyes, but my heart nearly stops. The outside of her mouth is lined with blood. I take off my thin coat and put it around her shoulders, hoping she didn't notice my momentary panic. "Stay right here. I'll be back in just a few minutes. Try to get some sleep, okay?"

She nods and lies down on the ground, curling into a small ball, holding my coat tight against her. This is the last look I get of her before I change everything. She's got a smile on her face, despite everything, but I can't take care of her anymore- not on my own at least. It's not possible. It's the one thought racing through my thoughts as I run through the near empty New York streets, the only others out being the Irish immigrants. It doesn't take much guessing to figure out me and Ash's parents must have been some of the poor Irish folk who came here. They probably died. I've seen dozens dead on the street. I can't lose Ashley. I refuse to let her be one of the rotting bodies everyone steps around, pretending they don't notice. She's the only family I've got.

I have to remember how to get to the place that can save her. I take a left at this street here, then a right three blocks down, and stop at the black door. I'm panting when I reach the location. I ran the entire way here. _He's_ the only hope I have to save my little sister. I walk up the steps, being mindful that _he_ is the only chance Ashley's got. I knock on the door twice, before _he_ answers.

He looked like a normal man, at first. One of high class status, but then he came and spoke to us, not ignore us like the other folk did. Immediately, he made me uncomfortable. He was too beautiful and his eyes were too unnatural. "Good day there! Where are your parents?" _He_ said. It was the end of summer. The leaves had not yet fallen, but the nights were starting to get cold. They weren't unbearable, yet. We could manage.

"We don't have any." I said quietly. Ashley was hiding behind me while she tried to make herself look like she was not a threat. If people of high society came and spoke to us, it usually ended with a few bruises and bloody noses.

"Oh, well that's too bad. How old are you?"

Best answer his questions so he'll go way. "I'm eight. My sister is six, almost seven."

He took a step closer to us, seemingly smiling at our misfortune. "Hmm, young. I think you two would do rather well." He crouched down and pointed at a door, a windowless building among all the shops, with a black door. "That's my home. Do you two want to come live with me? I've got food, beds, toys for the two of you." I was almost tempted to say yes to him, but there was the way he smiled, the way he looked at us like we were rats, playthings, the dark glint in his eye...

I shake my head. "No thank you sir. My sis and I are on our own."

He shook his head and looked down on us, feigned sadness in his eyes, a genuine look of displeasure on his face. "Well, if you change your mind about that, just knock on my door."

That's what I did. _He_ is standing there. The man is probably in his early forties, handsome, if it weren't for the evil glare in his eyes. He's got thick dark hair and smooth ivory skin. He looks like a noble man should, but his eyes make me uncomfortable. They're light in color, a reddish color. They don't look like any eyes I've ever seen before. I remember them from the first time we met him. He gives me a wicked smile when he sees me. "You're the boy with the sister and no parents, yes?" His voice gives me chills and I force myself to stay there. "Where is she?" The man peers around the street looking for any sign of her.

"She's sick. I need her to be safe." I think back to the doll. I can't dance with her if she's not safe. I can't get her that doll one day if she... I don't want to think about it. I can't think about it. "Please, take us in. I'll do anything."

He gives me a pat on the back. "No need for that, boy. Let's go get your sister. I'll fix her right up."

I lead him through the streets, passing by the familiar New York sights, blurred by the ever increasing snow. "It's a miracle the two of you haven't frozen to death," the man says behind me. I let out a small grunt to acknowledge his presence, but do no more. I just focus on getting back to Ashley, until I pass that certain store, the one displaying the dolls. "What's this? You like dolls, do ya?"

"My sister was looking at it earlier," I say simply. It's true. Ashley was the one looking at the doll, and I'd do anything to get it for her.

"Is that so?" He glances at the store as we continue to walk. Ashley is waiting. "Oh, dear," the man says when he sees Ashley. She's pale and not moving. I can't even make out her breathing.

"Ashley!" I break out into a run, almost slipping on some ice that has formed, catching myself and continuing over to her. I hold her close to me, trying to warm her up. "Ashley, please!" There is a burning sensation in my eyes and I can feel myself trying to hold back the tears. "We promised we would always be together."

The man comes up behind me and picked her up, taking her away from me. "You know, I think I can save her." His eyes are glinting. "I know I can." A wicked smile from him and Ashley opens her eyes. There is color returning to her. I don't know what he did, but he performed a miracle.

"Mike?" Her large eyes look around, bleary, disoriented, but awake and alive.

The man places her back down onto the ground and I give her another hug, holding her tightly to me. "Oh, Ashley."

"Why don't you two come back home with me? I'll make you some hot chocolate and you can warm yourselves by the fire."

I decide to trust him in that moment. He can't be bad if he saved my sister's life. I wouldn't have her anymore if it weren't for him. We follow him home, hand in hand, only stopping once we reach the doll store, where he goes in and picks up the doll Ashley had been eyeing earlier. "All little girls need a little doll," was what he said.

The man treated us well while we stayed with him. He asked us to call him father. We did, and in return we had new clothes- proper coats that would cover us and keep us protected from the cold. A chef made us decadent hot chocolate and none of the bread was stale. We got to eat meat: chicken, duck, beef, anything we wanted. There was cake for dessert every night and after we ate a maid would tuck us into bed and read us a story. At Christmas he brought us presents: books for Ashley and a chess set for me. We were happy.

It all ended one day in June. I was ten, Ashley was nine. The house caught on fire and our father couldn't be found. We went outside, tried to save what we could, retrieving only the chess set and the first doll Ashley had received before we were unable to venture further into the fire. Neighbors came and watched as our home burned to the ground, all shocked, staring like it was a performance at the theatre. "Will we have to live on the street again, Mike?"

I look at her and shake my head. "No. I refuse to let that happen."

"Excuse me, did the two of you live here?" A police officer asked.

I give him a quick nod. "Yes sir. We lived here with our father."

The officer crouched down so he was at our eye level, looking over each of us in turn. I noticed the sad look on his face as he spoke. "Well, you'll have to come with me. I'm afraid the two of you are the only survivors."

This was shocking to us. The news didn't completely settle in until we were already in the carriage. We were going to a small orphanage in the country. There were other children our age we would be able to play with. Ashley cried and hugged her doll tightly to her chest. I held my tears, but I could feel my heart break. New York was our home. We had never been outside its limits. Now we were heading away from the city to some place surrounded by country. We wouldn't know what to do with ourselves.

Of course, that orphanage was where we met the others: The Washington siblings, eleven year old Josh and ten year old twins Hannah and Beth, The Hartley's, brother and sister Christopher and Jessica, Emily Davis and Matthew Taylor, half Japanese and half African respectively, both thrown out by their white mother's family, taken in by the orphanage by sheer luck, and Samantha "just Sam never Samantha" Giddings. They became our new family. Ashley and I became happy, again, if just for a while.

* * *

 _A miserable tale for miserable children! What did you, dear guest, think of the first tragedy our little Ringmaster had to face? Surely there's something more wight eh man with the man with the red eyes… Well this was just the opening scene, lovelies! There's much more to come!_

 _Why don't you leave a little review, tell our performers what you like and don't like about their acts. They would be greatly appreciative._

 _Au revior beauties!_


	3. The Orphanage Basement

Act One Scene Two: The Orphanage Basement

Happiness should be enjoyed while it can because all joy is fleeting, or at least that's what I've learned. I learned that lesson when I was fourteen years old, barely older than a child, running around playing baseball, using an apple as a ball and branches as bats. Our bases were large rocks placed on the ground in an off center diamond. The last moments of true happiness for all of us was us playing baseball.

"Alright," I said, looking at the others. I somehow had become the unofficial leader, even surpassing Josh, who was fifteen, "I'll be the team captain for one team and," I looked around at the group, my eyes landing on Matt, "Matt, you be the captain for the other."

He smiled, a common sight from him. He was usually quiet compared to the others, but he was also the best athlete. He's fair and kind; no one would be able to complain about a different team cheating if he was the captain. "Sounds good to me." He looked over and gave me a gesture. "Would you like first pick?"

My eyes landed on Emily. Fourteen is just older than a child, too young to be considered an adult, but just the right age to start developing a first crush. Emily is bossy, somewhat rude, and never afraid to speak her mine, but she's also funny, able to stand up for all of us when we need someone, and has helped all the girls learn how to act in different social situations -though I admittedly don't know how she learned that in the first place. "Em, you want to join my team?"

A smile lit up her face and she strutted over to me, carrying a jokingly holier-than-thou attitude, over to my team. "Really, you're choosing me first?" The look on her face contradicted her words. She looked like she wanted to win.

"And why wouldn't I?" I chose Emily because of my, admitted, crush on her, but also because she's a good player. I'm still wanting to win. Emily will help me get there.

"Alright, if you choose Em then I choose Josh," Matt spoke up, cutting off our banter. Josh was a good choice. He's always been pretty good at baseball, but there is one Washington better than him.

"Beth, you're with me." Beth can run circles around Josh, and while her balls don't go as far as her brother's when she hits them, she aims better and gets them to where the outfield is lacking.

Matt crossed his arms as Beth made her way over to me before his eyes landed on the youngest of our group, the thirteen year old Hartley sibling, who happened to be in a fairly fashionable dress, her hair in meticulously curled ringlets. "Jessica, you're on my team!" Maybe Matt has a crush on Jessica. I can certainly see why. She's pretty cute and while she isn't the happiest of the group, she manages to find a way to have fun. When she puts her mind to it, she's a great athlete, but getting her to the point of athleticism is the problem.

"Sam," I smile. She walks over to me, proudly. She is the most adventurous out of all of us, making wild excursions to the rocky hills, almost getting us all killed at some point over the past four years we we've all been here. She says she's always looking for something more. What would that something more be, though? We have what we need here. It's comfortable. It's safe. We have food in our bellies and clothes on our backs. There's a dry place for us when it rains and a warm place when it snows. None of the others were ever like me and Ash. They were never starving on the streets. I doubt they can appreciate it like we can.

I glance over at Matt who is studying the final three closely. I don't blame him. Ashley has always preferred books, sitting in the shade under a tree, getting lost in her fantasies while the rest of us play, Chris by her side, reading a science book of all things. Hannah at least tries to keep up with us, most of the time, needing more breaks than the other Washington's running out of breath. "Ash," Matt called, beckoning my sister over to him. Ashley was probably the best choice, given the people who were left. She's a lot stronger than she was when we were little.

"Hannah," I say, not wanting to have Hannah be the last one picked. She tries hard, and having someone who tries is better than... well... Chris, who I'm surprised is playing with us. Matt still welcomed Chris over with a smile, Josh giving him a pat on the back. Josh is probably the reason Chris is playing, now that I think about it.

Matt's team is up to bat first. I grab the apple and take position as the pitcher, Emily going to first base, Hannah and Beth taking second and third respectively, Sam taking the spot of catcher. We're two strikes in, Chris up to bat, when we feel the tension in the air. Someone in a fancy suit jacker who occasionally comes into our orphanage steps onto our field, a journal leather journal and fancy pen in his hand. He didn't belong out here with us boys, grass stained and covered in mud. He didn't belong with the girls, multicolored flowers braided into their hair while they tried their best to not get their stockings and skirts ruined by the dirt.

This man was pristine, with a brown suit jacket and trousers, a red bow tie. He had to be in his fifties, at least. His hair was white, though still full and thick. His face was beginning to show signs of wrinkling. A pair of blue eyes sat behind his round glasses, a thick, white mustache resting below his nose. "Pardon me, I'm interrupting your game." He spoke to us with a laugh, like our game was nothing serious. Perhaps in the scheme of things it wasn't, but in this moment it's the most important thing in the world. "I'm a doctor and I've come to perform some tests on you."

Maybe that should have been the first indication that he wasn't here for our wellbeing. He said he was here to perform tests on us. That he did.

"Can I see Hannah and Beth?" The two reluctantly looked at the rest of us before walking over to the man, sparing a last look at Josh.

"We'll finish our game when you guys get back," I said. We never would be able to finish our game.

First it was Hannah and Beth who disappeared. They were taken inside the orphanage, down the stairs to the basement where they would then be gagged, tied down and have their limbs cut off, Hannah's left arm and leg, Beth's right arm and leg, the two of them being awake, screaming, crying, the whole time, going through hell no fifteen year old should have to suffer. Once their limbs were cut off the sides of their bodies were ripped open and their organs were fused together, tangled into each other, before they were sewn together, two bodies becoming one. Two days after the surgery Beth died, Hannah the day after Beth. Of course we had no idea this was what was happening to them. Their bodies were placed in a giant freezer so they wouldn't decompose. They would remain cadavers. Subject 001 is what they were called. The doctors didn't even see them as separate individuals. Despite their two heads, they now only had one body. One body means one person.

A week after the twins went in for testing Matt was called in. He was led down those same stairs to the basement, where he was bound by leather straps, holding his arms, legs, chest and head down while doctors drilled a hole into his jaw, under his tongue, gagging him, causing blood to fill his mouth, but never drown him. The blood was sucked out, like a trip to the dentist, and emptied into a bucket. Matt died of an infection four days later. He too went into the freezer. By this point we were starting to suspect those of us who went with the man into the basement would never return.

Josh was heartbroken, inconsolable. The only ones who could reach him in any sense were his best friend, Chris, and Sam, who somehow managed to comfort everyone. It's why he was broken beyond repair when Sam was chosen to go next. The doctors systematically broke each bone in the girl's body, only her skull staying in tact. She was lucky. Her death was quicker than the other's. She died the same day when a broken rib punctured her lung. Into the freezer she went, piled on top of Hannah and Beth, and Matt.

When Josh was chosen to go next it was seen as a blessing by him, relief. He could join his sisters. He didn't want to live anymore. He didn't struggle as he followed the doctor down into the basement. He sat at the chair he was told to. He ate what he was supposed to. He suffered a cruel fate. They fed him, treated him well, before telling him he was eating the arms and legs of his sisters. There was nothing he could do. That moment, humanity seemed lost to Josh. He would never be the same. The worst part of his fate was he lived. He was sent back to us, a sniveling mess who would eat nothing but human flesh.

We tried to run away, those of us who were left. We didn't want to die. We didn't want to end up like Josh. We wanted to be free. Living on the streets again would be paradise compared to the hell we were going through now. We were caught. Guards dragged us back into the orphanage and locked us in the basement. We weren't able to see what was going on. Our room, the one all of us shared, simply had a hole where we could relive ourselves and a mattress that only one of us could fit on at a time.

Emily was next. When they took her she was fighting them tooth and claw, kicking and screaming as they dragged her away. We tried to help, but were forced back into the room with hits. Ashley suffered a black eye by a particularly nasty hit in the face. We could hear her screams as the doctors drilled two holes in her eyes, hitting the first one perfectly, piercing her brain with the second eye, causing her to die. She was placed into the freezer. The silence after her screams was deafening.

Ashley cried when they took Chris away. She held onto him and he held onto her until they were pried apart. Chris was another one of the lucky ones. The doctors simply ran a large butcher knife through his neck, beheading him like a guillotine would. They studied his body, looking at the blood vessels in the neck and vertebrae before throwing him with the others. We heard the doctors laughing at how easy this job was.

I cried when they took Ashley away next, the day after Chris was killed. It took her much longer to die. They had to saw her in half, through her midsection, her screams filling the air until she bled to death. They studied her organs and vertebrae, comparing her to Chris before throwing her in with the others. They killed my little sister, the one I had spent my whole life trying to save. I failed.

No one came for us for the next week. Jessica did her best to comfort me, trying to put on a brave face even though I knew she was scared. I accepted her efforts, not wanting to turn into Josh, only crying at night when she was asleep. We grew close that week, only having one another and the beast-Josh for company. We preferred one another. It all ended, though, as we knew it would. They came for Jessica, put her under anesthesia. There were no screams haunting me. They removed each of her legs, carefully sewing on the legs of goats before she woke up. She wasn't able to walk when she did wake up, and her body rejected the legs. She died in my arms after two days.

Then it was my turn. "Mike?" the doctor called. His voice teased me. There was a light airiness to it that seemed unnatural. He just murdered eight people, nine if Josh was included. He had to be effected in some way. When I looked into his blue eyes, I saw it.

"You've lost your mind, haven't you, you sick fuck?"

There was nothing human in the way he looked. It was like he was living just for the sake of living. These grotesque experiments were probably all that let him feel something anymore. I shouldn't have called him a "sick fuck," because the next moment I was on fire. Everything was on fire, burning. The orphanage was burning. The basement was burning. Even the doctor himself was burning as he laughed manically while his two assistants screamed as they burned away. The only place that was safe was the freezer, where the bodies continued to hide away.

I ran into our room and grabbed Josh, pulling him out of the flames, keeping him close to me, doing my best to keep him alive. I should have focused on myself more. I was covered in burns. I would never recover from those burns. My face survived the fire, but that was it.

Eleven years it was just me and Josh. I tried to turn him away from human meat, make him satisfied with raw steak or chicken, but his appetite was reserved for human meat. I understood that when Josh bit off two of my fingers. I would grave-rob, take fresh corpses and feed those to my companion. I was living on the street again.

I was twenty-five when it happened. "My, my, Mike. How the mighty have fallen. Where's your sister?" It was _him._ Father.

* * *

 _The plot thickens, ladies and gentlemen! Our little troop has had quite the history, wouldn't you say? But how did we come to form our circus that you so enjoy. That tale is coming, but for now our circus is curious what you all think of our little tale. Let us know, wouldn't you?_


End file.
